


Darling You're A Walking Cliche

by NinjaSpaz



Series: BokuAka Week 2020 [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Week 2020, Akaashi is so done though, Akaken brotp, Bold Akaashi Agenda, Karasuno is a cafe, M/M, Shameless Flirt Bokuto, Sorry Not Sorry, barista Akaashi, bokuto is trying his best, coffee shop AU, copious use of parentheses, thirsty Akaashi, this is the other side of my bkak week fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSpaz/pseuds/NinjaSpaz
Summary: “Oh he’s got it bad,” the grey-haired barista laughs during the mid-morning lull.“How long until he asks for my number you think?”“Akaashi, come now. Why not just give it to him?” Akaashi raises a discerning eyebrow as he wipes down the bar. “Oh you are cruel.”“He’s gotta earn it, Suga-san.”-The Akaashi POV toYou Look Like My Next Boyfriendthat no one asked for but my muse insisted I write anyway.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: BokuAka Week 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857346
Comments: 29
Kudos: 233





	Darling You're A Walking Cliche

**Author's Note:**

> *laughs nervously* So I saw there was a coffee shop AU for Akaashi Week and thought "I should write a little drabble about what was going through Akaashi's mind during [YLLMNB](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622971). That would be short and cute."
> 
> Welp. 
> 
> (I'm not sorry.)
> 
> [Can be read as a standalone. This is just an impulsive self-indulgent Akaashi B-side to my BKAK Week Coffee Shop AU.]

Akaashi hates cliches.

Real life is not like the movies. It's not like a cheesy romance novel. And it is most certainly not like a trope-filled fanfiction of some popular anime.

Kenma tells him he should lighten up, but the streamer doesn't have to put up with the incessant giggles of high school girls and college freshmen making eyes at him and every other barista at Karasuno Café in some vain attempt to live their fantasy. None of them are there to date (though Suga and Daichi are hardly subtle about their burgeoning relationship) and certainly not their customers.

Luckily, or unluckily, the tittering fools take his professional responses for aloofness. They don’t press, but they don’t stop seeking his attention. He’s used to it by now. Besides which, like his bosses, his tastes lean more to the masculine. Even if he was going to entertain giving a customer his number, it would be someone who could bench him.

It’s a typical Monday morning. Which is to say, hellish. Busier than normal ever since Kenma promoted the little cafe on his social media. But he and Suga have a rhythm that keeps the line moving and the customers flowing. He doesn’t even bother to look up as the bell chimes. It has been fairly constant for an hour and will not cease for at least another.

He goes through the motions. Taking orders. Writing names on cups. Dodging impertinent questions from confident freshmen. He doesn’t even register the new face until it’s towering over him. Relatively new. He remembers this guy with the horrible bed hair and worse taste in coffee. Still, he’s polite as he takes the overly complicated order. Then he turns to the man’s friend and…

Akaashi hates cliches. 

He really hates cliches. 

And yet he finds himself swept up in the midst of an absurd meet-cute where the very attractive customer is not subtle about his gawking at the poor barista just trying to do his job and who definitely did not ask the gods to assault him with the living embodiment of a star first thing on a Monday morning. Thankfully he has plenty of experience in keeping his face impassive as the other man (Bokuto, his messy-haired companion provides) pulls himself together long enough to give his order. The one blessing about the interaction happening on a Monday morning is that it’s busy enough he can move on to the next customer in line without having to dwell on it too long. He will save the ruminating for when he is off the clock.

(Those arms are going to feature in his dreams, though, he is sure of it.)

He’s so focused on his task he almost tunes out the voice talking to Suga at the pick up station. But the voice is loud and bright like its owner and Akaashi can’t help but listen to the over-the-top flirting. Suga plays along because Suga loves to play, but Akaashi maintains a visage of indifference. Perhaps he had misread the initial interaction after all. If Suga is this guy’s type, then why was he so flustered by Akaashi? Still, he will not dwell on it.

Suga teases him when they get a lull. “That guy this morning, Bokuto? He’s fun. I hope he comes back.”

“Are you looking to branch out Suga-san? I thought you were happy with Sawamura.”

“Oh I don’t think I’m his type,” Suga waves his hand dismissively in the air between them. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at that. “They never can though, can they?” He smirks. He hopes Bokuto comes back too. Suga cackles knowingly.

He gets his wish the following morning. It’s not quite as busy, but when the shock of silver-and-black streaked hair appears before him, he is prepared. “I thought this was a café,” Bokuto says, “but I must be in a museum, because you are a work of art.”

Akaashi resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. That has to be the worst pick up line he has ever heard. He chooses to ignore it. “This _is_ a cafe, sir.” He tacks the “sir” on out of spite. “Would you like to order?”

Bokuto relents, and orders the same thing as the previous day. “Venti mocha cappuccino, please.” Well at least he knows when not to push.

Akaashi enters the drink and remembers the rest of his order from the previous day. Maybe he’ll throw the guy a bone. Let him know he does remember him (and his arms that could crush a man). “Will you be getting a bear claw today as well?”

The question seems to catch him off guard as he watches Akaashi write his name on the cup (Akaashi hadn’t even asked for it) and hand it to Suga. “Uh, yeah. That sounds good.”

Akaashi starts keeping a mental tally at that. He marks a win for himself. He catches Suga’s gleeful smirk and knows they’re going to be discussing this later.

“Oh he’s got it bad,” the grey-haired barista laughs during the mid-morning lull.

“How long until he asks for my number you think?”

“Akaashi, come now. Why not just give it to him?” Akaashi raises a discerning eyebrow as he wipes down the bar. “Oh you are cruel.”

“He’s gotta earn it, Suga-san.”

“You _hate_ when guys use pickup lines at the club.”

Akaashi nods, tossing the rag into the disinfecting solution. “Which is why he will not get my number from such foolishness. If he wants it, he can ask for it.”

Suga hums. “I think this is going to be a very entertaining courtship.” Akaashi glares at him. “Please. You’re enjoying it as much as I am.”

Akaashi smirks. “Probably more.”

“Probably,” Suga laughs. 

He doesn’t see Bokuto again until Friday. Wednesday’s are his day off and he has the closing shift on Thursday’s, but apparently Bokuto has come every morning this week. Suga texted him to let him know he had served a “dejected-looking owl” on Wednesday. On his way out on Thursday, Tanaka mentioned a rooster-haired customer (whom Akaashi would bet money on was Kuroo-san) had dubbed Tsukishima with a new nickname. 

“I almost took his annoying friend’s suggestion to spit in his drink, but I had other customers to deal with.” 

(Akaashi would bet an equal sum of money on that friend being Bokuto.)

“Oh don’t be like that, _Tsukki_ ,” Tanaka draws the nickname out. Akaashi would not blame Tsukishima if he retaliated against the other shift supervisor.

Friday mornings he has the bar. Hinata is on register, which is good because his boundless energy makes up for his inexperience. The customers love him, even when he messes up their orders. He’s gotten better in the last month, though. Akaashi takes note of Kuroo and Bokuto entering the cafe and starts steaming the milk for their beverages. Five days in a row for the broader of the two. Akaashi can’t help but wonder how he can afford the coffee here every day.

When he brings the beverages to the pick up station, Bokuto is ready with another attempt at flirting. “Tired, Akaashi?” Akaashi keeps his features as even as possible. He is, but how does Bokuto know that? Maybe it was just a set up for another pickup line. The next words out of his mouth confirm that theory. “You must be. You’ve been running through my mind all week.”

Akaashi closes his eyes to take a deep breath. Really? Running through his mind? Akaashi hates himself for continuing to entertain the thought of giving this guy his number. Deflection seemed to work last time, so he responds in a similar fashion. “I apologize, Bokuto-san. I will try to be more mindful of where I run.”

He returns to his post to make the next drink order in the line, but sneaks a last glance as Kuroo drags a dumbfounded Bokuto out of the shop. It’s so horribly cliche, but he lets his eyes trail down the retreating athletic back anyway. Akaashi files that image away for later, too. On his break, he texts Suga. 

//You weren't kidding about that ass.

//Lover boy was there AGAIN? HA!   
//Also how dare you ever doubt me.

//I would never.

His suspicions about Bokuto’s budget for the cafe seem to be confirmed as his visits begin to trickle down. He still comes in about twice a week, usually for breakfast on one of the mornings Akaashi works and to study when he closes. He is certain it’s no coincidence that his visits always align with Akaashi’s shifts. Suga swears he hasn’t given out his schedule, though he insinuates he wouldn’t hesitate if bribed. He really is a devil with a saccharine smile. Daichi is a saint to put up with him.

The Friday after he had helped Kenma install some new equipment in his studio, Hinata excitedly proclaimed that Bokuto had been looking for him the previous afternoon. So, he _was_ scheduling his coffee splurges around when Akaashi was working.

“Isn’t that kinda creepy?” Tsukishima sneers. “It’s like he’s stalking you.”

Akaashi snorts. “That guy is many things, but a stalker is not one of them.”

“Yeah, Bokuto-san is really nice! He always leaves great tips!” Hinata crows.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes in disgust, unconvinced. Akaashi swats him with a towel. “He’s just an idiot who thinks he can win me over with recycled pickup lines. I’d give him my number if he’d just ask.”

“But he won’t,” Tsukishima scoffs. “So what’s the point?”

Akaashi claps a hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder and sighs. “You’ll understand when you’re older.” The disgusted look on the taller boy’s face is priceless, and he and Hinata bust out into laughter at Tsukishima’s expense. “It’s a game, Tsukki. And you know I hate to lose.”

“Akaashi-san, you know I respect you, but if you call me that again, Sawamura-san is going to be looking for a new shift supervisor.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Hinata gasps.

“No, he wouldn’t, because it would mean more shifts with Tanaka.” Akaashi bares his teeth in a rueful grin. Tsukishima knows when he’s been beat, and he leaves to wipe down tables. Akaashi knows he’ll still find a way to get back at him for it, but future pranks aren’t his concern right now. He does hate to lose, but he wonders if it’s possible to lose this game with Bokuto. Which of them will be more stubborn in the end?

The next time he sees him is the following Monday. As Akaashi rings up his usual, he leans against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. The effect is impressive and Akaashi has to call on all his faculties not to react. “So, do you believe in love at first sight, Akaashi? Or am I just gonna have to keep coming back?” The line is ridiculous enough on its own, but then he has to add the waggle to his wild eyebrows.

If he wasn’t so insanely hot, Akaashi wouldn’t even be entertaining his incessant come ons. But he is. And Akaashi does. “I believe you are going to keep coming back regardless,” he says as neutrally as he can muster. “You like what we have to offer, after all.”

Bokuto blinks owlishly at him, trying to decide if the double meaning was intended. Akaashi decides this one is a victory for himself as well.

It’s really not a fair game. Every time Bokuto comes in, he throws lame lines, and Akaashi bats them away without batting an eye. Akaashi keeps the mental tally, Bokuto has yet to catch him off guard with a line, but he also doesn’t wear down. Every time he comes back more confident than before. Akaashi wonders if he isn’t really winning after all.

Kenma comes to visit one Thursday afternoon. Daichi’s apple pies (his grandfather’s recipe) really are the best in town, and his best friend has a sweet tooth. They chat while Akaashi works, and he almost doesn’t even notice the two volleyball players enter. He had almost forgotten it was Thursday. Kuroo didn’t always accompany Bokuto, but he was here now, and he had the same look on his face looking at Kenma that Bokuto sometimes got when Akaashi was particularly sharp in his replies. _Ah._

He keeps up his conversation with Kenma as he starts preparing their drinks. His last stream had some entertaining conversations in the chat and Akaashi doesn’t hide his amusement. When he’s topping off Kuroo’s disgusting concoction, Tsukishima announces, rather loudly, “Hey Kenma, I think you’ve got a fan here.”

Kuroo’s face is as crimson as the jacket on his back, and Kenma isn’t faring much better. Akaashi would be mad, and he will make Tsukishima clean the bathrooms for this later, but he’s also curious to see how this plays out. He gives Kenma an appraising look, one the shorter man knows is an offer of an out should he need it, but Kenma isn’t looking at him. “I’m still not used to people recognizing me in public,” he mutters, eyes flickering between the pie in his hands and the tall, blushing, dark-haired man in front of him. “But, I’m always happy to greet a fan.”

Kuroo responds just as awkwardly, and Bokuto tries to help him, and Kenma gets even more embarrassed, but he still doesn’t look to Akaashi for help when he brings their drinks over. He catches Bokuto watching Kenma and Kuroo with as much glee as he feels inside. 

In a matter of minutes, Kenma is talking to Kuroo like he’s known him his whole life. Akaashi doesn’t know how, but he finds it incredible. He must say this out loud because Bokuto jumps at the sound of his voice, having been just as invested in the developments of their friends as he was. “He never talks to strangers this long,” he says by way of explanation, allowing a fond smile to show on his face. He’s happy for Kenma.

He returns to his work, as Tsukishima has a couple more customers at the register. Bokuto goes to his usual table. It’s only later that Akaashi realizes the other man didn’t attempt to flirt with him for once. He wonders if maybe they could talk as easily as Kenma and Kuroo if they tried. They’re both adults, aren’t they?

The next time Bokuto comes in, he has a fresh one-liner, and Akaashi decides the game must go on, adults or not.

There is a lull during the first exam period of the semester where it’s too busy for him to even get a quip in, and Akaashi finds himself missing the usual banter. He’s almost relieved when the exams have passed and Bokuto returns with his typical charm. He’s walking stiffly though, and Akaashi remembers the volleyball team had a match the night before. “Did you injure yourself?” he asks, hoping the concern in his voice isn’t obvious to anyone else. Suga’s snort suggests otherwise but Akaashi doesn’t deign to react to it.

Bokuto actually brightens (if it’s even possible for someone so vibrant to shine even _more)_ , like he’s been waiting for Akaashi to ask. “Yeah, I scraped my knees falling for you.” He’s leaning forward, wide grin beaming at Akaashi as if he actually means the things he says. It’s endearing and maddening.

“You really should be more careful, Bokuto-san,” he says, affecting a sigh as he shakes his head. “Shall I have Suga crush up an aspirin in your cappuccino this morning?”

Bokuto laughs. “Can he do that?”

“For a price!” the other barista pipes up from behind the bar. Akaashi doesn’t even want to think about what toll Suga would exact for that.

Apparently Bokuto doesn’t either. “I don’t think I can afford that.”

“You’re slipping,” Suga teases him after Bokuto leaves. Akaashi rolls his eyes. “You should just put him out of his misery and give him your number. You know you want to.”

He does, but it’s the principle of the thing. He can’t just give the man his number after so many failed one-liners. It would look like he’d finally found the right one, when Akaashi will never fall for any of them. He hates pick up lines as much as he hates cliches. So why does he allow himself to continue to be swept up in them both? Sooner or later one of them is going to break, and as much as he hopes it will be Bokuto, Akaashi isn’t so sure it won’t be him.

He’s proven right a few weeks later.

He doesn’t understand why this one of all the lines is the one that gets him. It’s been a few months since Bokuto first started pelting Akaashi with terrible come ons, and it’s hardly the first time he’s complimented Akaashi’s appearance. But something about the softness of his voice, the uncharacteristic shyness in his smile when he delivers the line, it’s incongruous to everything Akaashi knows about Bokuto and it dooms him.

“Looking pretty as ever today, ‘Kaashi!” The sudden shortening of his name is probably what set it apart. It was almost close enough to his given name that his heart somersaulted in his chest. He went on as if he hadn’t just shaken Akaashi’s world. “I think I look rather cute myself. You know, together that’d make us pretty cute, don’t you think?”

He lets his eyes rove over the athletic, muscular body in front of him. In retrospect, it wasn’t the wisest stalling tactic, but he needed a moment to collect himself. Bokuto is usually dressed appropriately for class on the mornings he stops for breakfast. Jeans and polos, khakis and t-shirts for the most part. Sometimes he comes in with his club jacket and joggers, but those are more common in the afternoons when he comes to study or do homework after practice. This morning he’s wearing a tight black tank top that does wonders for his arms and sinful grey sweatpants. No, cute is not the word Akaashi would use to describe that sex god look at all.

Not that he’s about to admit that.

Maybe it wasn’t the one liner that got him after all.

“I think the gym rat look doesn’t quite fall into the realm of cute,” he eventually responds.

“Gym rat? Ouch, ‘Kaashi. These are my best sweats, I’ll have you know.” Bokuto grins as he heads to the end of the counter to get his drink from Suga. 

(Ok, maybe Akaashi think he’s kind of cute, too.)

Akaashi hates cliches, so he isn’t going to confess. Not that there’s anything to confess aside from the fact that he really wants to see Bokuto outside of the cafe. Maybe even join him at the gym, get some personal instruction. Not that he’s been slacking himself. He’s athletic, sure, but he’s not… that. Gods, he’s got it bad.

Suga says as much with a pitying look. “How much longer are you going to play your game?”

“I’m pretty sure I lost when he walked in looking like that,” Akaashi groans.

“Did you though?” Suga’s teasing grin contains multitudes.

Akaashi ponders on that for a moment. Is it really a loss if he takes a shot he knows he’ll hit? Don’t they both win, in the end? “Ok, I lost when I let him walk out looking like that.” Suga’s ensuing cackle brings a panic-stricken Daichi sprinting to the front with the fire extinguisher.

Next time. He’ll make Bokuto take him out next time.

Midterms are in full swing the next time Bokuto comes for an afternoon study session and he has to claim an open table quickly after ordering. It’s busier than usual, but most customers have already acquired their caffeine by the time Bokuto’s order comes to him and there are only a couple behind him. Akaashi makes them all at the same time. He knows he should make them in order, but he is on a mission today. He calls the two girls who came in behind Bokuto, and they giggle as they accept their drinks from him.

After they leave, he takes Bokuto’s drink and a pen from his apron. He makes eye contact with Tsukishima as he writes his number below Bokuto’s name on the paper cup and carefully places it in the cardboard sleeve. The blond narrows his eyes. Akaashi is going to owe him for covering the two minutes he leaves his station, but this is important.

Bokuto jumps up from his seat when Akaashi comes up from behind him. “Oh! Sorry! I must not have heard you calling me!”

“It’s fine.” He hadn’t called. He wasn’t going to call. Bokuto was going to call him, dammit. He hands him the drink and tries to ignore the cliche as their fingers brush. “You looked like you were really focusing. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“No, no! It’s totally cool! Just intense from waiting til the last minute to start an assignment.”

Akaashi glances down to the laptop on the table. They’ve never actually talked about what he’s studying. “What are you working on?”

Bokuto blinks at the question. He scrutinizes Akaashi’s face as if trying to determine an ulterior motive in it. Akaashi can’t exactly blame him given the lack of general conversation between them during these last few months. His eyes crinkle and Akaashi recognizes the flirtatious cant to his lips as he opens his mouth to speak. “I’m writing a term paper on the finer things in life. I was hoping I could interview you.”

If he hadn’t already handed over the cup with his number written on it, Akaashi would almost take it back. Why does that cheeky grin affect him so? “You know,” he says, raising an eyebrow in annoyance, “if you spent as much time studying as you do thinking of pick up lines, you wouldn’t need to spend so much time cramming here.”

Bokuto considers him over the lip of his cup as he takes a sip of the steaming beverage Akaashi had carefully prepared. “But then when would I get to see your beautiful face?”

Gods, he’s a walking cliche. And worse, Akaashi is going to indulge him. He rolls his eyes as he turns to head back to the bar. Tsukishima won’t wait forever. “On our dates,” he says with a significant glance to the paper cup in Bokuto’s hand.

“Wait, what?” The cup almost slips out of his grasp as he finally takes notice of the extra writing peeking out from the sleeve next to his name.

Akaashi lets his smug grin show on his face. “I got tired of waiting for you to ask.” So what if it was cliche. The game had to end sometime. “I’m off at 7.” Bokuto’s jaw definitely drops and Akaashi winks as he walks away. As he watches the athlete hammer away furiously at his keyboard, he’s confident he won after all.

**Author's Note:**

> ANYWAY.
> 
> That was a thing. Hope you enjoyed thirsty Akaashi! Comments, kudos, [shouttweets](https://twitter.com/anininjaspaz) are all welcome and encouraged. Until next time!


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